Molly Fyde and the Blood of Billions

“You were thinking about them the firsst time we sspoke. Don’t you remember? I heard it quite clearly.”

“Oh.” Walter forgot it worked that way. But why would he have been thinking about those stupid things?

“Ssurely you know the armss I’m talking about. Unlesss you jusst have armss sstrewn all over the sship —”

“What? No. No. They’re the only oness. But I wanted to talk about—”

“Right, right. The gold. Well here’ss the deal, Walter, I really would love to help you claim it, but firsst I’m going to need a favor from you.”

“Okay, but it better not get me in trouble.”

“Of coursse, of coursse. All I need you to do iss get me thosse armss. Do you think you could do that?”

“What? Why?”

“Doess it matter? I could jusst asss eassily assk you what you want with thoussandss of barrelss of gold.”

“I don’t know.” Walter rubbed his head, thinking. His coppery hair felt soft under his hand; it was getting too long and needed another pass with the shaver. He tried to picture himself with it grown out and what Molly would think about it. “How do I get them to you?” he asked. “Where are you?”

“I’m on my way to a little planet called Lok. Do you know it?”

Walter nodded. “Yeah.”

“Exscellent. Wait, you’re not there now, are you?”

“Am I thinking that?” Walter asked.

“Why don’t you tell me where you are?” the voice asked. “I’ll come right to you. Quick as I can.”

Walter shook his head. He knew how these transactions went down. It was always best to get information, never a good idea to give it.

“I’ll bring them to you,” Walter thought. “Jusst pick a sspot.”

“And you can deliver them? You have a sship?”

“Yess,” Walter hissed.

It was another lie, but he kept those thoughts deep. Palan deep. The truth was: it didn’t matter that he had no ship of his own, nor did it matter he couldn’t even fly one. What he could do was reprogram hyperdrives to go wherever he wanted, just like how he’d sent Cole into a star and what he’d done back on Palan. With that kind of talent, every ship was practically his, and he may as well be the one flying them.

••••

Molly checked the instruments on the dash one more time, making sure her mom was on course and holding steady, before she leaned over her reader. Typing on the thing was quite painful with the current state of her fingers, all of which were scabbed and blistered with dozens of votes. And yet, the writing was psychologically soothing, somehow, even though she couldn’t properly phrase an ounce of what she was feeling. It didn’t seem to matter; just attempting to do so—to reach out to Cole in some tangible way—eased the pressing weight off her chest, allowing her to breathe a little.

She stared at the first two sentences of the journal tab while the Wadi crawled down her flightsuit and stretched back out along her thigh.

••••

6/10/2414

Dearest Cole,

I got a new reader on Lok. So, here I am, writing you a letter on it.

Horrid. She deleted the entry. Then she wrote the exact same thing. She deleted it once more. She repeated the same stilted, juvenile wording over and over. Molly finally shook her head and decided to start from scratch, forgetting the need to make it perfect. She would simply write her thoughts as they came to her, unscripted and unedited.

Cole. I don’t know where to start. Trust me, I’ve tried. It’s just… I’ve always been bad at this, being faithful to a journal. I never know what to write. I think my last one had two entries in it. The first entry was about how many entries I was planning on writing. I remember composing that one on my first day of school at Avalon. My second entry was an apology to myself for going so many months between entries. I remember writing it on the Orbital Station while I was waiting on you. I’d love to read what I wrote back then. Can you imagine if I knew all the things that would take place as soon as we left Earth? I wonder if I would’ve gone. Anyway, that reader is long gone, probably being used by a pirate somewhere on Palan.

Speaking of Palan, Walter kinda saved my butt again. Some crazy stuff went down when we got to Lok. That guy from Dakura, the one who tied me up in his ship, he was here. I thought he was you when I landed. Walter and I zapped him to hyperspace, but we may’ve accidentally opened a very bad door in the process. I’ll tell you more about it once we’re back together…

Gods… who am I kidding? Who am I even writing this to? I think I’m getting too used to talking to machines. It doesn’t help that the only crewmate I have left is the color of metal and that my mom is a computer.

Speaking of mom, she told me where you probably are—that you’d be in hyperspace somewhere. She also told me how awful it was there. And that my father is probably there, too. I hope you landed someplace safe. I hope you two already found each other and are just hanging out and swapping stories and waiting on us to come pick you up.

Just… watch each other’s backs, ok? I’m trying to get there, I promise. I’m coming to rescue you both. Just stay alive until i get there, okay? Cause I’m a little messed up without you…

Drenards… now I’m blubbering. I shoulda waited till Bekkie and bought a waterproof reader. This stinks.

You know what else stinks? Not telling you I loved you the second I felt it. It was years ago. I bet you don’t remember. It was after Hobbs showed us how we could stream vids to our school computers. You and I stayed up all night watching episodes of Water Marines and we had to hide under my bunk after lights-out with the sheets hanging over the edge.

Actually, you probably do remember, just… maybe not the same way I do. It was when our foreheads touched, leaning over the little screen, and you were laughing and I could smell your breath. I remember thinking how much I loved your laugh, and how normal everything felt. It was like being on a date. Like regular kids. I even liked the way your breath smelled, which has to mean something, right?

I’ve loved you since then, I’m pretty sure. Or maybe I’m just projecting back. That’s been, like two years? And I’ve told you what… three times? I feel like an idiot. And not just for typing you a letter you’ll never read. I should’ve let you call me “babe” or “sweetheart” or whatever you wanted to. If you were here you could call me anything…

Molly looked up as Parsona swerved to port a little. She checked the cargo cam to see if Walter was milling about, but the screen was empty, the boy still asleep. She bent back to the reader, annoyed at how stiff the buttons were on the keyboard and how her fingers throbbed after using them.

Anyway, you aren’t here, and I seem to have to lose crap before I appreciate it. My parents, my reader, you, Glemot, Lucin… everything I really love gets snatched away. Or that’s what I used to think. Now I think the things that get snatched away are the only things I can truly love. Jeez… I hope that isn’t true. I hope neither’s true.

Well, i guess that’s my first entry. I think it sucks vacuum and I’ll probably delete the whole thing later and this keyboard is the worst. Anyway, we’re on the last leg to Bekkie, looking for an old friend of mom’s so we can get some kinda special fuel for the hyperdrive. So, I gotta go. And now I can’t stop typing, like I’m hanging up on you or something. This is definitely getting deleted.

I love you I love you I love you. Now be alive when I get there, ‘cause I’m gonna kill you if you aren’t.